


A Meeting of Marksmen

by Euregatto



Category: Hellsing
Genre: Der Freischütz - Freeform, F/M, Light Bondage, Shameless Smut, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 03:53:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12645567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Euregatto/pseuds/Euregatto
Summary: "I can’t do this," she had said when Samiel descended upon her ship and sent them all to Hell.





	A Meeting of Marksmen

**Author's Note:**

> Alucard x Rip smut because I'm a heathen and I decided to binge watch Hellsing and HellsingU again.
> 
> Note: I don't tend to write accents.

_I can’t do this,_ she had said when Samiel descended upon her ship and sent them all to Hell.

  

She was artificial, a soul titled by the moment between waking and sleeping where they existed forever as an endless pulse, undying and unyielding. But she was afraid of him and she was not ashamed that he had found her frightened and crying.

_So what will you do, Rip Van Winkle?_

     

   

* * *

 

    

  

A flaming cross. The bottom of the ravine.

 _Tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor – my bullet punishes all without distinction._

* * *

He pitied the way she cowered beneath his gaze, the onslaught of his ire, fully aware of his prowess as a real vampire. He knew that she would most certainly die if she didn't give him what he wanted. And his face stung where the musket had made its mark, where his flesh was mending and expelling the fragments of debris.

The fire that blazed around them was an ineffective reflection of her own self-hatred. Her fear, consumed by her anger. Her anger, consumed by a song she begins to mumble to herself as an ensemble of broken lyrics from _Der Freischütz_.

He had his hand on her throat and his shadows cascaded around them like curtains. Yet she had become still now, refusing to fight back, bite back. Perhaps she was allured by the intensity in his gaze, softened by the realization that she would be dismembered and consumed by Alucard himself.

Or perhaps she had realized that here, hidden from the eyes of the world and _Millennium_ in the veins of time detached from everyone but them, she could give him what he wanted without death. Without dying at the hands of Samiel.

“I want a choice,” she said to him, choked by his strength, his intimidation. His grip loosened. “I will not die by your hands, _Samiel_ , but I know…I know that I am at your mercy.”

“A choice?” he mused. “You’ll find that I’m far from merciful, but fine. I’ll give you a choice.”

Her hands gripped his collar. She was going to live the rest of her undead life on her own terms, and he couldn't help but oblige.

He pressed his body compliantly to hers. His fist balled into her jacket, lowering her down, as the other dropped her gun with a clatter that almost sounded like splintered wood. Her gaze was a kind of blue that didn’t remind him fondly of Integra, instead it roused a memory that he might have known her somewhere in another life before this. And her eyes, guarded, glazed by tears but steadier than before, glimpsed him once over.

“You do not know what it is to lie with a Vampire,” he told her, bringing both of her hands up over her head, pinning them against the wall by her wrists. He can feel her energy, the friction between them, intensify. “Or to be claimed by one.”

She would spit but she could feel him already hardening. Her heels dug back against the wall, bracing. “I am artificial,” she agreed with a sneer, “but I am not fragile. You’d do well to watch your tongue, Monster.”

His knee shot up, forcing itself between her legs and up to the apex of her womanhood. “You’d do well to stop provoking me. I will pierce you to this wall with your own rifle and pull the confines of your limbs until they came undone. And all the while”—he thrusted his knee and she bit her lip, eyelids fluttering—“I wouldn’t allow you to scream. Your precious major will want to watch the display and I would very well let him.”

She trembled beneath him. Or, perhaps, shivered with anticipation. “I have a choice,” she said without a tremor, steeled by her focus on him. The space between them was sucked in by his presence. With it went her sanity. “I have a choice and I want to offer you what no mortal can.”

“Oh? And why’s that?” he jeered, teasing her, allowing the lamest smile to reach his face. “Have you ever lied with anyone?”

“O-Of course.” A hesitation. She was coming undone. “A few times. Only…only once, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear, Vampire?”

He nudged her legs apart and suspended her wrists above her head with one hand, freeing the other. “I wish only to know of your plans,” he said with a hint of disinterest. “I can consume you bit by bit like the cruel and unforgiving force of a black hole and steal the memories for myself, or I can make you scream them. I am indifferent either way.”

She grit her teeth. “I will never tell you anything.”

He unbuttoned the collar of her shirt, exposing the plain of her neck, the arteries and sinew muscle stimulated by deep memories and engorged blood. Rage, sadness, fear. He could taste it all and he could take it all. _I see_ , he told himself, allowing his lips to lean closer to her pulse, and then speaking, “I’ll have you then.”

She braced herself, waiting to feel the bristle of his fangs sinking, dangerously, into her flesh. But she didn’t anticipate his kiss against her throat. And then another, moving gradually downwards, then up to the side, until she felt him sucking a spot that made her moan. _There it is,_ she could almost hear him thinking, _there’s no going back._

She didn’t anticipate this, the burning ship, the fires of war, the coming storm. She didn’t anticipate Alucard. Or _this_ , all of _this_ , every little _this_ from the warnings of Samiel to the kissing, moans, the heat pooled in her lower belly, and part of her felt the presence of Schrödinger before she opened her eyes and saw the major’s favorite pet sitting on an upturned slab of rubble.

Alucard might have felt Schrödinger’s presence, or at least, her discomfort. His shadows arced up to fully conceal them from view, sealing them in a pocket of eyes, many eyes.

She was all his.

His shadows clamped her wrists to the wall to free his other hand. He sucked on her neck, leaving bruises and bites that barely broke her skin, and with his hands he unbuttoned her jacket, her blouse, her pants, ridding the layers of her clothing between segments of his. And all the while, she let him have his way. She was beyond comprehension, beyond fear.

He glanced her once over. A lanky thing, thin and tall and proud. Her portions were small but her glare was set, determined. She smelled of lingering arousal and anticipation.

She felt his restrained erection throbbing against her hips as he slid her pants down to her ankles and then pressed once more to her body, his teeth to her chest, his fingers unhinging her bra and allowing her small breasts to fall out. Alucard curiously gave them attention and pinched her nipples with every few strokes, following his pattern with unwavering expertise as his knee settled between her legs. She was already wet with need, even if she wasn’t yet at the point of begging.

“I told you,” she muttered, panting out her breaths, “I am not fragile. Don’t treat me like a human.”

He figured she was right. It had been a while since he laid his hands on anyone who wasn’t Integra—(she may be his master, but she wasn’t without needs. So long, of course, as she stayed a virgin.)—but he hadn’t forgotten his cruelty, his primal killing urges.

He removed his gloves and taunted her with the misaligned grin of a predator. “Am I not allowed to have my fun?”

She blushed. “Th-that’s not what I-”

He pressed his fingers up against her clit. She moaned, trying to push herself against him, but he pinned her back by her hip. Then he pressed harder, circling her sensitive bundle of nerves, ebbing the intensity only when he slid two fingers into her velvet warmth. Her moans were growing louder, her head was pressing back to the wall. He moved a bit roughly at first but she spread for him, distracted by the pleasure, losing all of her control.

Alucard was fascinated by her responses, by her groaning and panting, her trembling and pining. Words that could have been swears, could have been prayers, slipped from her lips in German and were consumed in the quizzical hunger of his shadows.

“So close already?” he mused, aroused by the desperate buck of her hips and intensifying cries. Alucard roughly curled his fingers up against her g-spot and she came with a cry that could wake the dead. The orgasm ripped through her and she rode out her pleasure with heated murmurs, dragging her hips against his hand. He moved his fingers until she fucked herself senseless, when she settled down out of exhaustion.

He brought his other hand to her neck and squeezed her throat. Not enough to hurt her or choke her, but he could snap her neck if he really wanted to. “Do you seek death, or salvation?”

“Do you still want answers?” she asked instead, red in the face, her fangs grinding against her teeth with each hard, little pulse that followed her ecstasy. He grinned, as if he’s read her mind. She toed off her shoes, her pants, and leaned her face towards his _._

 _I am Caspar_ , she told herself firmly, still trembling from the anticipation and fear of being so close to a powerful beast, _and I am_ _doomed to fail at your hands, Samiel_.

“I see,” he said like she was an open book, “so be it. I wouldn’t normally entertain pitiless demons but you have information I want, and it would be a shame to let such a pretty thing go to waste.”

The pink blush in her cheeks deepened. “Now you’re just trying to flatter me.”

“Perhaps.” He lifted one her legs up to his waist and she felt him pushing inside of her. She tried to relax herself but the feeling of his girth forcing her to spread in ways she hadn’t in years made her tense, made her whine with disapproval. He waited for a moment as she clenched, her breath hitching, trying to adjust to his presence inside her.

He pushed forward, brushing a spot that made her moan and then ease around him. She was used to pain – all Vampires, real or not, were accustomed to bleeding and killing and being killed. She wasn’t quite used to the strange equilibrium between pain and pleasure, but instead the threshold that bound thrill to fire, the point where a knife pierced skin but didn’t yet flay the nerve in two.

She rolled her head back and cursed, her thighs trembling with her ecstatic high. Her fear had dissipated. Her mind was distracted, out of touch, focused on the bursts of pleasure through her body with each of his powerful and greedy thrusts into her womanhood. Her walls were collapsing around him, welcoming each and every stroke.

She stuttered and shuddered as she came, but he didn’t stop.

 _And who are you, if not Samiel?_ she wondered, feeling him moving faster, thrusting up with a fervent rhythm. _Who are you, if I am Caspar but you are not the ravine of Hell?_

His shadows released their restraints on her hands and her arms fell onto his shoulders, fingers clutching the tendrils of his cloak. And then she surrendered herself to him, body and will and all. She surrendered her cries, her begging, her every orgasm by his hands. She surrendered herself to Samiel and the maw of Hell and the ravine where Caspar’s body lay in ruin with the rest of the world. She surrendered, she surrendered –

“England,” she whispered into his ear before her moans turned to cries and Alucard understood everything else she didn’t have to say. He was building and she could feel it, the pressure, the desperate need for release, the shadows clawing at their skin in despair.

And then he was coming, buried within her to the shaft, sinking his teeth into the tender flesh of her neck. She was screaming as her final orgasm ripped through her and the ecstasy of pain synched with the sonance of their mating, exploding with the fires of the ship.

Hell was ascending. 

    

    

* * *

 

   

        

“Why did you kill me, Samiel?” she asked him later, many minutes later when he had consumed everything she once was and made her into him. When she was no longer afraid of his prowess, neither the man she met in another life or the creature aboard the maw of Hell. She was Familiar with him.

“Because I preferred Max,” came Alucard’s blunt reply. “But to be honest with you…the entire production was a little bit bland.”

And then the forgotten pain, the begotten ire, took hold and she wrapped her essence around him insistently, pulling him down to his knees as if praying for her forgiveness. He allowed her only because her lips were icy on his, because she reminded him of the way his stomach once dropped when he missed a step.

She was Caspar in the ravine of Hell, and she embraced it with her arms wide open.

  


End file.
